


Three Sided Dice

by zombiekittiez



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Love Triangles, Mood Whiplash, Post-Break Up, Slow Burn, brooding! Jughead, bughead - Freeform, protective! Reggie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-10-29 20:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10861383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez
Summary: “Start over,” Reggie said. Betty showed him the notes.They started out innocuous. Almost friendly. Little comments about her hair. About something smart or funny she'd said in class. Then a compliment on her clothing. The way her cheer uniform brought out her eye color. Her long legs. What he'd like to do with her long legs. Her smart mouth. Graphic. Specific. When he got to the description of what she looked in her little teal pajama set, how it looked against the pink wall paper of her bedroom, Reggie handed the letters back. He knew the handwriting but the letters weren't signed. Chuck Clayton wasn't that stupid.“Make him stop,” Betty said simply.“Yeah, okay.” Reggie said, exhaling. “Put your clothes back on, crazy girl.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty has a problem. Enter Reggie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really just wanted to write more Reggie but am also Bughead trash, so who knows where this is going. The mood whiplash will be, in later parts. pretty hardcore- rather like the show, I hope.

“I want a favor,” Betty Cooper said and Reggie Mantle quirked an eyebrow. It was unusual for Betty Cooper to ask _anyone_ for help. It was unheard of for her to ask after stopping by his house and coming up to his bedroom. 

“Favors don't come free, blondie. Not from Mantle the Magnificent,” he said loftily, spinning around in his desk chair. He was expecting her to give a little laugh, roll her eyes. Talk about Homecoming decorating committee or posing for pictures for the newspaper or any number of small inconveniences that come from small town life and a control freak like Betty Cooper. She'd been asking for occasional favors since she was eleven, getting him to carry boxes of sugar frosted cookies to school for the after school Valentine's Day mixer alongside Jerkhead Jones, skinny arms wobbling under the stacked boxes. He'd gotten an extra five cookies and a handmade thank you card with a big Transformers sticker on it for the trouble. Betty was usually pretty good about matching risk with reward. 

“I'll make it worth your while, Mantle,” Betty said and her voice was odd. When he looked again, she was pulling her sweater off over her head, revealing a smooth abdomen, pink lace trimmed white t-shirt bra. 

“Whoa.” Reggie dragged his feet against the carpet, stopping himself fully. Betty fumbled with her bra clasp. “Wait, whoa.” As her hands came free and the garment loosened, he stood, slid off his starter jacket and draped it around her. “Stop,” he said firmly and set her down on the bed. He stood above her a moment, studying her. 

She was _tired._ She didn't look like she'd slept in days and her fingernails were bitten to nubs. There was a pull at her mouth that didn't belong there, giving her a lopsided expression of sadness. 

“Start over,” Reggie said. Betty showed him the notes. 

They started out innocuous. Almost friendly. Little comments about her hair. About something smart or funny she'd said in class. Then a compliment on her clothing. The way her cheer uniform brought out her eye color. Her long legs. What he'd like to do with her long legs. Her smart mouth. Graphic. Specific. When he got to the description of what she looked in her little teal pajama set, how it looked against the pink wall paper of her bedroom, Reggie handed the letters back. He knew the handwriting but the letters weren't signed. Chuck Clayton wasn't that stupid. 

“Make him stop,” Betty said simply. 

“Yeah, okay.” Reggie said, exhaling. “Put your clothes back on, crazy girl.” 

~~

Betty had been desperate. 

It had felt like there were eyes everywhere, focused, all the time. Who to trust? Who to talk to? She couldn't drag another girl into this- Veronica hadn't even wanted to do half of what Betty had done to Chuck Clayton, had just been along for the ride. Archie was varsity now- he couldn't pick a fight with the coach's son and keep his position. That was scholarship money- money the Andrews _needed._ And Kevin already got it bad enough from the macho set. 

Jughead was out. For a lot of reasons. Mainly, though, for the way his eyes slid around her, over her, as though she did not exist. Which hurt-but not as much as some things. Being ignored by her ex was nothing compared to the paranoia she was feeling about pretty much everyone else. 

See, the notes were so specific that she knew he'd had to have help. Was it _Cheryl_ who shot him a quick text after scoping the locker room so that he could specify he knew the color of her underwear? Was it _Moose_ who rummaged through her gym bag while she was at the board, solving the equation, so that he could speak with confidence about her exact bra band and cup size? 

She was cutting crescents into her hands deeper by the hour. She didn't sleep, after he'd described the pajamas she never wore out of her room. She hardly ate, after he'd sent a running tally with calorie count and nutritional information for an entire day last Friday- even the Gatorade she'd chugged in the car on the drive home. She would snap soon. It would be public and ugly and everyone would whisper about _that Cooper girl_ and they'd be right. Chuck would be right. 

But Betty was nothing if not a problem solver. She pulled her hair up and pulled her diary out. She made a list of people who would help her and people who could stop Chuck and only one name overlapped the two.

 _Why,_ though? She'd known Reggie since they were kids. He'd helped look for Polly, even if he'd talked a bit too loudly and often about how this was just like the opening sequence of Law and Order SVU and he really hoped he'd be the one to find the body. That was his angle; he'd be the most helpful guy in the world if he got something out of it. 

Betty didn't have anything he'd want. 

Except. _Maybe._

When she left, cheeks burning, she knew that tomorrow she'd be mortified- paralyzed with embarrassment. The only thing worse than throwing yourself at a guy you don't even like is having the guy turn you down. It wasn't an ideal situation, losing her V-card to bribe a guy to deter a creep stalker but she was running out of options, running out of time, so _tired._

He borrowed the letters for a couple of days and then gave them back quietly, telling her to keep them just in case. Whatever the hell Reggie did, though, it worked. The letters dried up. Her hands stopped shaking. She slept. 

And Reggie started checking on her. 

“You going to Pop's after the game?” Reg asked her in passing, as the team jogged out to the field. 

“Um. I don't know,” Betty said, surprised, shooting a glance at Ronnie.

Veronica strung her arm through Betty's and smiled. “You are,” she assured the blonde. 

“I am,” Betty said, a little amused. 

“Good,” Reggie said. 

At the diner Betty came in with Veronica, met up with Kevin and Trevor. They spent the time pleasantly drinking coke floats and sharing mozzarella sticks. A few tables away Reggie sat with Moose and Tina Patel, goofing off. He barely glanced at Betty but when he did, once or twice, his eyes were sharp, appraising. Satisfied, he turned back to his conversation. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Veronica asked on the walk home. 

“About?” Betty fidgeted, looked guilty. 

“Are you in recovery mode from the My Chemical Romance set?” Veronica bared her teeth in a grin. “Nothing like a Billboard pop charter to cheer you up.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Reggie does _not_ like me,” she said firmly with a little embarrassed laugh. She thought back to her open shirt, his averted eyes and felt the blush creep along her face. Veronica raised an eyebrow but said nothing further.

Reggie kept his newfound helpfulness subtle- carrying a few heavy stacks of Blue and Gold issues to the racks, taking the box filled with canned goods for the food drive to Weatherbee's office for her, bringing her the binder she'd left outside after lunch. Things she'd struggled with, since Jughead had sauntered out of her life and over to another table. He'd always, frankly, been at another table. Betty just wished she'd known which fucking table she was supposed to be sitting at. That feeling only intensified as she found herself a few weeks later standing around the kitchen uncomfortably, trying to block out the noise and the heat from the other rooms. Cheryl's parties- _Vixen attendance mandatory._ Such bullshit. 

“It's weird to see you at a party,” Reggie said, handing her a red solo cup. She took it and sipped a little, surprised at the fruity, mild flavor. She opened her mouth to respond when she saw the doors open to the porch briefly, saw Chuck Clayton sitting among a group of admirers. She averted her eyes and drank deeply. 

“Slow down, crazy girl,” Reggie advised, pulling the cup away for a moment. “That's jungle juice. Everclear laced. It'll knock you on your perky little ass.” 

Betty shot him an annoyed look. “Where's your entourage, anyway?” She asked, taking back her cup but pacing herself a bit. “Shouldn't you be surrounded by sycophants?” 

Reggie shook his head a little, mock admiring. “Getting drunk at a party and still using ten dollar words.” 

“I'm not drunk.” She snapped. 

“Tipsy, then. Don't worry, it's cute.” Reggie smirked. 

“You hate it when Jughead talks like that,” Betty said without meaning to. Then she winced, glancing down at her cup. It must have been stronger than she'd thought. She spared a thought for Jug, an exasperated, annoyed, yearning that quickly turned bitter- damn Jug, damn Archie for abandoning her to make out with Ronnie in a closet (again) so that she looked pathetic enough to be consoled by _Reggie,_ of all people. 

“Yeah, well... you're not Jughead.” Reggie shrugged, watching her closely. 

“Because I'm female?” Betty asked, giving up and finishing her drink. 

“Because you're nice.” Reggie said bluntly. “You talk like that because you're smart- not because you're trying to be an asshole and show off.” 

Betty looked away, still playing with her empty cup. The door to the porch swung open and Chuck Clayton stepped inside. He was not looking her way- not yet. Her heart was thudding in her throat. 

“C'mon,” Reggie's large hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her gently into the next room where the bar was set up. He topped off their cups with a practiced hand, then took her elbow and guided her into the back bedrooms. The first was locked. The second was.... occupied. Reggie let out a wolf whistle and Betty reached over to close the door and give poor Moose and Midge some privacy. The third bedroom was empty. Betty followed Reggie slowly into the room, a small voice buzzing _bad idea, girl_ in her ears. Reggie shut and locked the door behind him. 

“Want to know a secret, blondie?” Reggie grinned. “This is the best part of a party for me.” 

“What.... part?” Betty asked hesitantly. 

“When I corner some poor, naive little partygoer in a back bedroom with a couple of drinks and do _exactly_ what I've been thinking about all night.” Reggie winked. 

Betty crossed her arms over her chest and shot him a sharp look. 

Reggie dropped to the carpet and pulled something out of his jacket. 

“You know the rules for Gin Rummy, right?” He held up the deck of cards.

~~

Outside the bedroom, Ginger Lopez lowered her camera phone, replaying the Snapchat for herself once or twice. She added a few artistic touches, changed the filter, then hit send with a smirk. If this didn't get her back in Cheryl's good graces, nothing would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the 'crazy girl' comes off as affectionate though rude. Kinda channeling Power Rangers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin holds an intervention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta-ed.

“Okay, great, we're all here, we can-” Kevin stopped suddenly, did a double take. Yep. Archie Andrews, boyishly attentive. Veronica Lodge, impeccable posture. Ethel Muggs, which was, you know. Whatever, he guessed. Then... Jughead Jones looking particularly sulky and surly, so deeply unhappy that he was almost a caricature of himself.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Kevin turned to Archie, who balked. 

“He asked to be included because he _cares,_ ” Veronica interjected, staring daggers at Jughead. “After all, he's been friends with Betty _far_ longer than he's been her boyfriend... or... _ex_ boyfriend. So he's going to sit here and be supportive and not say a single. Fucking. Word.” 

“Is that so?” Kevin mused. Jughead nodded once, sharply. 

“Jesus. Okay. Do we know what we're doing?” Kevin asked, a little desperately.

“We were all in the group chat,” Veronica said, sipping her coffee. “We've got it, Kev. Chillax.” 

“I'm just here to help,” Ethel said brightly. 

Across the the courtyard, Betty approached with her tray. 

“Here she comes,” Kevin said. “Try to look natural.” 

Betty paused a few feet away from the table, taking in the scene. Jughead was still refusing to look at her but he was here, within a five foot radius without running away screaming, so this was a _good thing,_ right? She continued her approach, smiling a little. 

“Hi,” she said shyly to the table... but mostly to him. She settled into place and picked up her sandwich, took a bite, then noticed the intense scrutiny from the rest of the table. Chew. Chew. Betty set the sandwich down and swallowed hard. 

“Um,” she said stupidly. 

“This is an intervention, B,” Veronica said, putting a hand on hers. 

~~

“Reggie Mantle,” Betty said flatly. 

“I know you're in recovery mode and _far_ be it for me to hinder the grieving process-” Veronica was saying warmly when Kevin interrupted. 

“Look, he's McHottie for sure but you _know_ what he's like and we don't want you to get _hurt-_ ” 

Betty sputtered, glancing at Jughead who was looking more wooden and less approachable with every syllable. 

“Look, no.” Betty waved her hand wildly. “I haven't- I'm not... _with_... Reggie, okay?” 

Kevin turned his phone toward her. “It's viral, babe.” 

Across the grainy screen she saw herself being pulled into a bedroom by Reggie, door shutting firmly behind them. Her eyes, glancing back, had been huge, scared, reluctant. The camera panned up to Ginger who gave an exaggerated wink. 

“It's not what it looks like,” she said weakly. 

“We're your friends, B.” Veronica said consolingly. “We'll believe you whatever you say. But you've been acting... off lately. Like more than a bad break up off.” 

“Betty,” Archie said. She put her head in her hands. 

“I did _not_ sleep with Reggie Mantle. We played Gin Rummy until Chuck left and then I went home with you guys, remember?” She shot a glare at Veronica and Archie who did, at least, have the decency to look away. 

“I didn't know he was at the party,” Archie admitted. “So we kind of...” 

“Ditched me, yeah. I...” Betty looked down at her hands which twisted together nervously. “I asked Reggie for a favor and now I guess we're... friends, or something? I don't know. He's just being less of a jerk.” 

“Oh?” Kevin sat back, expression thoughtful. 

“So that's it? You asked him for a favor and now he's being nice.” Veronica's mouth held a skeptical angle. 

“It's not unheard of,” Ethel said, smiling. “Research shows that when you ask someone for a favor, it indicates that you trust them. It makes that person think more highly of you.” Jughead glared at her briefly before rolling his eyes. 

“That's it,” Betty said with a relieved sigh. Everything was going to be fine. Her silly, sweet friends. Her silly, sweet, caring, unobservant friends. Everyone made to clean up and go back to class as she looked over them fondly. 

Jughead shot Archie a _look_ and nudged him in the side. Archie looked back. They had a small, silent exchange. 

“Hey, um. So what favor was it that you asked him? Couldn't you just have asked one of us?” Archie asked. Betty froze. Ethel was already halfway to the trashcan and, not noticing the sudden change, disappeared back toward the main building. Everyone else sat slowly back down. Betty bit her lip. 

“I just... didn't want to bother anyone,” she said hesitantly. 

“Oh no.” Veronica said, scooting closer and putting an arm around her shoulder. “What is it?” 

Kevin leaned across the table. “You have to tell us now.” 

“Does- does he _really_ have to be here for this?” She asked, blinking back tears and looking her tray. The only part of Jughead she could see was his elbow resting on the table and it wasn't budging. 

“Betty,” Archie said. The bell rang. Betty's fingers tried to make fists but Veronica held her hands flat against the table, gentle but firm. 

“I couldn't tell you, this was my fault- Archie, you're the Coach's favorite and Veronica, you shouldn't have even gotten involved-” 

“Slow down, B. You're not making sense.” Veronica stroked her hair a little. 

“I just figured I could... _pay_ Reggie and he could fix it for me without putting anyone else in a bad situation-” 

Jughead, forgetting himself, let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Pay Reggie Mantle, one of the richest kids in school. Reggie doesn't care about _money._ The only two things Reggie cares about are football and se-” He stopped midword. 

“Um,” Betty said, words failing. 

Jughead shut his mouth with an audible snap. 

“Look, it's- it's probably easier if I just show you, okay?” She pulled her hands free and dug into her bag, a little thankful that she had started carrying the letters with her, using them as a talisman against the dark. There was something soothing about looking at them, neatly labeled with the date, time, and location she had received them, watching the latest one growing further and further in distance from the present.

Betty set the letters on the table. 

“Holy shit,” said Kevin, after a moment. 

“So...” Archie flipped through a couple of papers, brow furrowed. “You went to Reggie, offered to...?”

Betty felt like if she blushed any harder she was going to spontaneously combust. “I don't _know_ what the hell I was offering, it's not like I've ever done anything like that before,” she rolled her eyes, avoiding everyone's gaze. “But nothing happened. He just said he'd do it. He hasn't touched me at all except how he had my arm there,” she gestured at Kevin's phone. 

“Unacceptable,” Veronica's voice shook and that made Betty look up. She was expecting disappointment. Maybe disgust, irritation, annoyance. She wasn't expecting the _hurt._ Archie looked he was trying very hard not to crumple the letter in his hands, the one that described in loving detail the flower print of her bedroom comforter. It shook at little as he held it, staring off into the distance, the same far away look he had when he shut down completely, overwhelmed. Kevin was speechless, swallowing, making as if to speak then swallowing again. Jughead was hunched over one of the letters and as she turned to look at him he spun around the bench, put his back toward her. Veronica was crying large, fat, silent tears. 

“I'm- I'm sorry,” Betty said, tearing up a little herself. 

“You're _sorry?_ ” Veronica put her hands on Betty's shoulders. “You're _sorry_ that you were so desperate you were going to- to- “ Betty looked away but Veronica caught her chin, turned her face up. “ _No._ No. _I'm_ sorry, _we're_ sorry, Betty, that we weren't good enough friends that you could trust us to help you.” Veronica buried her face in Betty's shoulder, threw her arms around the blonde girl and Betty sobbed, _no, no,_ and they completely missed French class. 

“So. Chuck Clayton,” Archie said after they'd calmed down. 

“It's his handwriting, but it's not like he signed his name.” Betty said, wiping her eyes. Veronica fanned her face with both hands, looking up, unwilling to smear her waterproof eyeliner. 

“What did Reggie do, exactly?” Kevin asked. Betty shook her head. 

“I don't know. I didn't ask. But I haven't gotten anymore letters, so...” She shrugged. The bell rang, signaling the move to the last class of the day. 

“C'mon, Ronnie,” Archie said, taking her by the arm. “Kev. We've got PE.” 

Veronica looked at Betty and then up at Archie sharply. 

“C'mon,” he repeated, looking at both of them seriously. Veronica slowly picked up her bag. 

“I'm going to tell them you're sick and went home early,” Veronica said, shooting Jughead a warning look. “If you need me I am a text away, okay?”

Betty nodded absently. “I'll call you later,” she promised. Kevin just dropped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently before he followed. 

Jughead stayed, back to her. He was flipping through the letters, putting them in order. Betty shifted uneasily in her seat. 

He stayed perfectly still, looking over the first letter again and again. The date. The time.

“I am,” he said distinctly, meeting her gaze for the first time, “a complete piece of shit.” His eyes were wet and soft, his mouth trembled with the effort of holding on to his composure. 

Betty sighed. “I was going to tell you,” she said. “But-” 

“I didn't give you the chance. I was so pissed at you- going behind my back, talking to Jellybean-”

“She told me not to tell you,” she explained, “I said I wasn't going to lie to you. I thought, you know, that it was cute that she wanted to talk to me. That you would like it, get a kick out of your girlfriend and your kid sister getting to be friends.” 

Jughead shook his head. “My mom put her up to it,” he said bluntly. “It's all part of the game and Jelly is _always_ in the middle.”

“You just wanted me to, what? Hang up on her? I told you as soon as I saw you and you were so _mad-_ ” Betty's voice broke off. 

“I was wrong, Betty.” Jughead looked down at the ground. 

“You said dating me was a mistake. That I was too selfish and wrapped up in my own stupid problems to pay attention to other people.” Betty echoed. 

“I know,” Jughead said softly. 

“And I said you can't- you can't talk to me like that anymore, Jug. I've never done anything to hurt you on purpose but when you get mad at me you're so _cruel,_ ” Betty hiccuped a little. He reached for her hand but she pulled away. “And you said you just wouldn't talk to me anymore, then. And you _haven't._ ”

“I would have- if I had known,” Jughead said helplessly. Betty shook her head. 

“No, you don't get to come back and be the hero when I'm drowning. I need someone who I can trust to know that I'm trying to be a good person and I'm not out to hurt them. I need someone I can trust-”

“Someone like Reggie Mantle?” 

“Someone like a _friend,_ Jughead!” Betty was shouting, red faced. “You weren't always a bad boyfriend but you have been an absolutely _bullshit_ friend!” 

“I'm sorry, Betts,” Jughead said, face pained. “I'm so sorry.” 

“I know,” Betty said. “I know.” 

~~

Jughead was waiting out in the parking lot, leaning up against his car. Reggie quirked an eyebrow, and, as Jughead approached, made a show of inspecting where Jughead had been, polishing the spot a little with his sleeve. 

“I was hoping to run into you, actually,” Reggie said, straightening up to face him. 

“Yeah?” Jughead was tense, shoulders up. 

“Betty tell you?” 

“She told me she didn't sleep with you,” Jughead said flatly. 

“She didn't sleep with me,” Reggie agreed. “But I meant about the stalker.” 

“Yeah. She told us. Finally.” Jughead's voice was bitter. 

“I don't know what you did to fall out of favor and I don't care,” Reggie said, offhandedly. “But I figured you're probably still the best person to tell.”

“Tell what?” Jughead asked, crossing his arms. 

“I talked to Chuck Clayton about the letters. We used to be okay friends, I didn't go in guns blazing, but I know and he knows he can't mess up again and have any shot at a real college. Betty's such a little neatfreak, you know how she labels them with times and dates?” He asked, an amused, affectionate smile on his face. Jughead wanted to rip it off, stomp him into the dirt. 

“Yeah,” Jughead ground from between his clenched teeth. 

“Chuck Clayton was out of town the whole weekend of letters three and four,” Reggie said. “He was on a college visit- one that hadn't yet got the news that he was on the outs with the football team, one that only got the old footage.” 

“So?” Jughead arched an eyebrow. “He could have had his little accomplice drop those notes.” 

“Could have,” Reggie said easily. “And I told him as much and the letters did stop, but-” Reggie paused. 

“What?” Jughead snapped. 

“Listen,” Reggie said. “Betty came to me and I said I was gonna help her-” Jughead physically recoiled from the words. “But I'm not an expert on this sneak around sleuth shit you guys have down pat. I don't think that's the end of it. I've been keeping an eye on her-” 

“Yeah, thank you _so much-_ ” Jughead bit off viciously. 

Reggie stopped. Stared. “Grow the fuck up, Jones,” he said, rolling his eyes and opening his car door. “You wanna take this seriously, you know where to find me.” Reggie started the car. 

Jughead, seething, kicked the curb. 

“Hey.” Jughead turned. Reggie sat, window down, looking at him. “I don't fucking like you,” Reggie said frankly. 

“Newsflash,” Jughead muttered.

“But she's scared, okay? I'm helping her because she's _scared._ This is some fucked shit. Maybe- if you like her so much- you might want to start _acting like it._ ” 

Reggie flipped on his sunglasses, turned up the thumping bass to some 90's era gangster rap and tore out of the parking lot. Jughead swore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jones and Mantle: Detective Agency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled for a bit with how canon this should be. I'm gonna say treat everything up to episode 12 canon and after that is some divergence.

Jughead made an excuse after dinner and headed up to the bedroom where he crawled out of the window of his foster family's apartment and onto the fire escape. He climbed up the rusted, creaking steps and sat on the roof, watching the sun set. Even after it got cold, he stayed up there. The stars were brighter on the Southside- most of the area dimmed, streetlights broken. That was the trade you made, living out there. Jughead knew all about trades. 

“You're just like your father,” his Mom had said, taking one look at him as he sauntered up the drive, her lips tight. “Gangbanger _trash._ ” 

“What did you expect?” He'd snarled. “You _left_ me.” 

“Happy birthday to me,” Jellybean had muttered quietly, arms crossed tight over her chest. That had been the last time he'd gone to visit and it had been clear, from the tight smiles on his Grandparents' faces, from the way his mother wouldn't look him in the eye, that he would not be asked back again. 

“ _Why_ did you bring the jacket, Juggie?” Jellybean had asked, allowing her eyes to shine with tears when they were alone. “You knew what was going to happen.” 

“Maybe that's why,” Jug had said. 

“You _are_ turning into Dad,” Jelly had groaned. “You know you just made it a hell of a lot harder on me now. I love you guys.” 

Jughead had pulled Jelly tight into a hug. “I'm getting out of Riverdale,” he'd promised. “I'll make a real life and then you can count on me but until then-”

Jellybean pulled back from him to glare in his face. “Don't-”

“Don't call me, JB. Don't write me. Don't try to find me. Don't ask about me. Don't give them any more ammo. You know that I love you and that I'm- I'll be fine. I know that you love me and you're going to be fine. You got that?” 

Jelly was sobbing in earnestness, mouth a wobbling wet line. Jughead pulled her in close, let her put her wet face into the shoulder of his Serpents jacket. 

“Okay,” she choked. 

“Promise?” Jughead pressed. 

“I-I promise,” Jelly said. 

Jughead had believed her. But Jellybean was also eleven. So he'd made Betty promise, too. But he hadn't exactly told her what she was promising. She wouldn't speak to his mom or dad, wouldn't give away his secrets, sure. 

“You're the only one who knows me at all, Betts.” He'd kissed her hands, looked deeply in her eyes. The wind had picked up a little, and the gold of her hair caught the sunset where they stood out on her porch. The weather had been perfect. The day had been perfect. 

“You can trust me,” Betty said, kissing him softly as she spoke. “I love you.” 

He'd tangled his hands into her hair and the sun was dazzling in his eyes and it was like a fucking Nicholas Sparks movie, he could hear the soundtrack kicking in. Then Alice Cooper had banged the screen door open and announced it was time for dinner and he had might as well come in, Hal could drop him at the Tellers later. 

Well. 

What had he expected her to do? Hang up on Jellybean? Hurt the only other person besides Betty that he loved totally and without reservation or fear? He should have known better. Should have known Jelly, should have known Betty. She'd taken his rage, his insecurity, his bitterness- taken and taken until she was all full up. And then he'd left her. He didn't know who he was more upset with – her for turning to _Reggie fucking Mantle_ or Reggie for doing such a goddamn stand up job. 

Jughead swung back down into his bedroom, careful not to wake the others as he slid into his bed. He sent off a text, even though it was late. The reply came a few minutes later: _track behind school 6am_. Jughead rolled over to catch a few hours of sleep after setting the alarm. It would be a short night, long day, unpleasant morning. The usual. 

Jughead found Reggie running laps. 

“So-” he began. Reggie sped by him. 

“Are you-” Reggie passed him again. 

“Fucking _hell-_ ” Jughead fell into a jog beside him. “You have got to be the world's biggest asshole, you know that?” 

“Keep up the pace, Jones.” Reggie smirked. 

Four laps later, Reggie slowed to a walk. His breathing was a little faster but still even- he took off his shirt with one hand, using it to mop the sweat off his brow. Jughead doubled over, wheezing and stumbling. He retched a little, coughing, and was for once absurdly glad he hadn't had breakfast. 

“Alright, let's hear it.” Reggie leaned against the fence and drank from his bottle, waiting for Jughead to catch his breath. 

“Are you serious about trying to find out who's bothering Betty?” Jughead asked, finally straightening up. 

“Yes.” 

“And you're going to let me help?”

“Also yes.” 

“Because I'm smarter than you.”

Reggie shrugged. “We all have our strengths,” he said evasively. “I'm socially competent and Betty can stand being in the same room with me. I'd say that's probably a one up on you so far.” Jughead bristled. “But also, yes. You guys sleuth-ed out a fucking murderer. I'm thinking you're probably a little more experienced.” 

“I noticed something about the letters,” Jughead said abruptly. 

“Yeah?” Reggie turned his full attention on the shorter boy. 

“Four of the them made references to things inside Betty's room.” 

“So? Any jackass with binoculars could have scoped it out.” 

“Not exactly, Mantle. Her room faces Archie's. Theoretically, a person could be in Archie's room and see in-”

“Kinky.” Reggie remarked, finishing his Gatorade. 

“- and it might not be a bad idea to run down a list of who's been up there the past few months, but there is one thing that the letters mention that you can't see from the window. Her stuffed animal- it's a bear that her grandmother gave her.” 

“So the stalker or whoever had to be in the room to see that,” Reggie said slowly. 

“Right,” Jughead said, stretching out his sore legs. “But it's more than that. Betty gave that bear to Polly when she went into labor.” Reggie gathered his things, headings toward the main complex. 

“So it had to be someone who had physically been in Betty's room, but a while back.” 

“Exactly. Odds are whoever wrote the letter was either in the room or getting intel from someone who was. Alice Cooper is pretty strict about who comes and goes, so this could be a big break, especially if we have a time frame for reference. We need to talk to Betty and we need to see her room,” Jughead mused. They reached the door of the weight room. Reggie held open the door. 

“Do I _look_ like someone who goes to the gym, Mantle?” Jughead quirked an eyebrown. 

“You look like someone who _should_ go to the gym,” Reggie said. “This is gym time. You wanna talk Crimestoppers, you can do a couple of squats.” 

“ _Archie_ can't even get me into the gym,” Jughead said, stepping inside despite himself. 

“That's cause he's your friend. Makes him soft and weak.” Reggie grinned, showing white, even teeth. “I'm not your friend, Jones. Maybe I'm helping. Maybe I just want to see you fail at bench press.” 

Jughead put his hand over his face, eyes closed, trying to even his breathing, control his temper. He had been so _angry._ Betty's big sad eyes as he struck at every weak point. Her tentative attempts at making amends when _he_ was the one who should have been begging for forgiveness- 

“What's it gonna be?” Reggie asked, turning back from where he'd been loading the barbell. 

Jughead shrugged out of his jacket and sat down on the bench. 

“Five or failure,” Reggie advised, standing to spot. Jughead grabbed the bar. 

“Betty and I got assigned to do this cellular process project in AP Bio. Tina's in the group, too, but she's useless. I'll tell Betty you want to help since you aced that class last semester and you're sorry for being a fucking jackass.” Reggie spoke as they walked out of the building, pausing to lock up with his team captain's key. 

“ _Or_ we could just tell the truth,” Jughead said, rolling his eyes. He was soaked in sweat, hair plastered down under his beanie. His arms ached. He had a cramp in his leg. He was starving. And yet, somehow, he was starting to feel better than he had in days. Since he'd seen the video of Reggie pulling Betty into a back bedroom, since he'd seen the letters spread across the picnic table. 

“Yeah, no. You maybe didn't see her when all this went down because you were busy having your pity party or whatever, but she was in bad shape. I'm not going to mess her back up by saying we might have got the wrong guy until we're _sure._ ” Jughead looked like he wanted to protest. Reggie stopped at his car, turned to face him. 

“Look, Betty isn't an asshole. If we do have to tell her, she'll understand and even if she is annoyed she'll forgive us because she knows we're looking out for her.” _Unlike you._ Reggie's words were like a physical blow. 

“We're meeting at her place tomorrow after school. You in?” Reggie was unlocking his door. 

“Yeah,” Jughead said, turning to head back across town, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide their trembling. “I'm in.”

~~

Betty blinked. 

“... You gonna let us in, Cooper?” Reggie asked cheekily, arms full of poster board. 

Betty looked from Reggie to Jughead, scowling at the paper bag of art supplies in his hands. She looked back at Reggie again. She opened her mouth to speak and faltered. She pointed at Jughead, who was slowly turning a blotchy crimson. Betty moistened her lips. 

“Wha...” she managed. 

“I'm helping,” Jughead said flatly. 

Betty stepped to the side, letting them in. She closed the door firmly, a little dazed. For a moment she stayed there, forehead resting against the window. Was this some kind of prank? She'd managed one civil conversation with Jughead and now he was there to work on school projects? He didn't even _go_ to their school anymore. Betty gave herself a little shake, slapped herself a few times on the cheek very lightly. _Bizarre._ Her life was utterly bizarre. She grabbed a tin of cookies, a bottle of soda and some plastic cups before heading into the next room. 

“I figured we could set up in the dining room,” Betty said uncertainly. Reggie and Jughead were already at the stairs. 

“No way, blondie. I want to see Cinderella's Castle in person before I die.” Reggie continued up. Jughead rolled his eyes but said nothing, leading the way to Betty's room with the ease of familiarity. 

Fucking. Bizarre. 

Betty followed. 

Reggie let out a low whistle in the doorway. “This is seriously even better than I thought. Where are your little singing mice? Off making you a prom dress or some shit?” He made an exaggerated gesture of looking under her bed. Jughead ignored his clowning, taking the time to unpack the foam shapes, heavy duty crafting glue, non toxic water soluble paints, and to scan the room for anything out of place. Betty rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“We all aspire to have classy Mantle décor like neon signs that say 'I heart the boobies,' but unfortunately, we all can't have your impeccable taste.” Betty crossed her arms over her chest. Reggie gave a low chuckle and Jughead had to close his eyes a moment against the wave of bitter dislike at the image of Betty in Reggie's room. 

“I'll have you know I bought that at a charity auction for breast cancer. Five hundred bucks to save the tits and I got a smokin' mancave sign. Win-Win.” Reggie preened. 

“Womankind appreciates your altruism,” Betty said dryly, fighting back a smile. Her expression dropped when she saw Jughead's face. “Are you... okay?” She asked tentatively. “Jug?” 

The nickname snapped him back to reality. “Yeah,” he said automatically. His voice was a little harsher than he'd meant so he cleared his throat and gave her a little smile. “Just tired.” 

“How are things, with the Tellers?” Betty asked, scooting a little closer. Reggie unfolded the poster board with great care, pretending not to listen. 

“Good,” Jughead assured her. “They're nice and the food is good. Cliff – the guy I share a room with? He snores, though.” 

“Worse than Archie?” Betty asked, smiling. 

“Archie doesn't snore, he _talks._ I spend half my life ignoring that, so bunking with him was just par for the course.” Jughead clarified, arching a brow.

Betty and Jughead looked at each other and the air was warmer now than it had been. Jughead's shoulders relaxed even as he was aware that out of the corner of his eye, Reggie was watching them, standing very still, his face unreadable. Jug turned his head and shot a look over, suddenly, sharply, but by then Reggie was fiddling with the board, his expression neutral. 

“Why don't you two figure out your lay out and I'll start making the labels. You have your notes?” Jughead asked. Betty pointed him to her notebook, resting on the bedside table, and walked across the room to kneel in close with Reggie. Jughead ignored them, pushing down the renewed tension that threatened to overwhelm him, and grabbed the notebook. Underneath was a small blue bound journal. Betty's diary. His fingers fairly itched with the impulse to grab it, stuff it into his flannel pocket. Her innermost thoughts and feelings- him ( _Reggie_ ). If knowledge was power than that little notebook could be the fucking One Ring. A record of the letters, with a play by play of the entire day to analyze. A list of who had been in her house, her room. The things she'd wished to hear him say before it was too late. What to do now that it was too late. Cheat the system. Hack the Betty. Fix his life. 

Instead, he quietly opened her drawer to drop the diary inside. Out of sight, out of mind, he figured. 

“So... you have a lot of people over to do projects?” Reggie was asking in a low tone. 

“I don't usually let strange boys in my room, no, Reggie,” Betty rolled her eyes. “You guys now... Archie, but not for a while. My Mom is _not_ a fan. Kevin probably once a week for a study date.”

Jughead held the diary over the drawer and hesitated. _Was that-?_

“These are good,” Reggie said around a mouthful of cookie. “You always make something when people come by or are you trying to woo me special, Betty Crocker?” 

“Girls are a lot less maintenance. Ronnie is always on a diet. Cheryl probably would think I was trying to poison her. Ethel actually brought _me_ snacks, so-” 

“Those the only girls you have over? What about that last project with Tina and Moose?” Reggie probed. Betty's eyes narrowed. 

Jughead slowly put the diary aside. He reached up, touching the underside of the open drawer. Had he _imagined-?_

“Tina and Moose are useless. I did the project myself, at the library. Reggie, what are you-” 

Jughead's hand came up, a small, black, plastic and metal rounded disc in the center of his palm. 

“Betty,” Jughead said calmly. He turned around, holding the item up. “You're being bugged.”

**Author's Note:**

> The thing to do when you've already got a few ongoing multiparters is to just start another one, I guess. Comments and kudos are my lifeblood.


End file.
